


Crafting A New Heartbeat

by chrystal896



Series: Heartbeat Under the Mountain [2]
Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Adorable Frodo Baggins, Alternate Universe - Bilbo Remains In Erebor, Bilbo & Frodo Baggins In Erebor, Child Frodo Baggins, Cute, Fluff, Frodo Baggins in Erebor, King Thorin, M/M, Thorin Feels, Thorin is a Softie, Thorin-centric, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-21
Updated: 2016-03-07
Packaged: 2018-05-22 10:22:30
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,358
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6075651
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chrystal896/pseuds/chrystal896
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The long awaited sequel to Heartbeat Under the Mountain, Thorin goes for a walk and finally gets a chance to meet his newest (and youngest) guest in the Mountain. Fluff ensues as Thorin and Frodo begin to bond.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> *coughs* So...somehow 5 weeks turned into 10ish months. Oops? If it's any consolation this story is finally finished and completely Beta-ed so there will be a new chapter for the next several weeks. I had a lot of fun writing Frodo in this one. 
> 
> If you are new to the Heartbeat Under the Mountain series then you should probably read the first in the series since Crafting references some things from Heartbeat and it will explain how Frodo and Bilbo ended up in the mountain to begin with. In theory, it could probably be read alone if you have any knowledge of Hobbit (which since you are here - I'm assuming you do). 
> 
> Standard Disclaimer: In my absence I have not won millions nor somehow magically managed to obtain the copyright for all of Tolkien works (Gandalf has been ducking my calls), so yeah, the characters belong to Tolkien in all his majesty and I only own one itty bitty OC.
> 
> Kudos and comments are love! Enjoy!

In what seemed an unusual twist of events, Thorin found himself with far more jobs as king under the mountain than he had ever had laboring as a blacksmith or an adventurer. Within a single day, he could move from being a counselor to an arbitrator to a miner, a mason, an architect, a banker, and then to Mahal knew what else. It left him very little time to do anything other than be there for his people, but, as a leader, he had been sought after for advice on many things in the past, and responsibility was a condition with which he was all too familiar.

 

Thorin often found himself putting the lives of his kin and subjects first in many things. If nothing else he would be remembered for keeping as many as he could alive, fed, and sheltered. All deeds which were worthy of remembrance. But, with as busy as he’d been, he’d had no time for anything else, including romance or courting. In all his years, he’d never felt the call of his One.

 

Not until a round green door opened on the unlikeliest One imaginable.

 

And now, after all that had happened, Bilbo had returned to him with a child!

 

Leaning back in his bed, Thorin laced his fingers behind his head as cold dawn light began to filter in through a high narrow slit bathing his sleeping chambers in an odd-halflight. Dwarrow families were typically small to begin with, and children had been in short supply as of late which meant Frodo was even more than just a passing curiosity. 

 

Thorin knew he was no stranger to children, having helped Dís raise Fíli and Kíli from the time they were very small, but that surely was different than raising a hobbit. A  _ fauntling _ , he reminded himself. Fíli and Kíli had been quick to correct him at dinner the previous night. They had said it with a shared remembrance of pain on their faces that made Thorin wonder what exactly had driven that particular lesson home. Either way, Frodo was not a dwarf, and Thorin had no idea if he still had the patience and skill to deal with someone so small.

 

Deciding that sitting abed would do him no good, Thorin reluctantly pushed himself up and out of the warmth of his blankets. Dwalin would no doubt poke fun at his expense if he found his king “lazin’ about in bed,” though it happened to be one of the King’s favorite indulgences now that he finally had what one would consider a proper bed.

 

Eventually, Thorin left his rooms and wandered out into the hallway in search of breakfast. It was always eerily silent in this part of the mountain as no one beyond the Company was allowed within its halls – and it was also still ridiculously early. 

 

Almost unwillingly his gaze was drawn to the next door. In the gloom of the early morning, Thorin’s eyes traced the door of the Consort’s chambers as he marveled at the audacity Bombur had had at placing the two hobbits there. At least Bilbo remained blissfully ignorant of its significance, and would continue to do so, as long as he could keep Kíli and Fíli from ever speaking again.

 

A shuffling sound broke his concentration and unwillingly, Thorin’s eyes darted away to glance down the hallway. While the early light of dawn had not filtered properly into the corridor, Thorin’s eyes, like most dwarrows, saw better in the dark. He easily spotted the source of the sound when he turned toward a statue of Durin that lay ensconced in a niche. He tilted his head when he saw a pair of brilliant blue eyes staring at him.

 

Crooking his finger at the small figure, Thorin watched as Frodo emerged from behind the statue and stood, one foot rubbing the back of his ankle as he peered up at Thorin from underneath long black eyelashes.

 

Stepping forward, Thorin paused when Frodo automatically took a step back.  He realized with a wince that of course the young hobbit would be unsure of a towering stranger in the dark. “Do you know who I am, little one?” Thorin asked, kneeling down instead making sure to keep his distance.

 

Frodo pursed his lips and eyed him carefully before nodding his head. “You’re Thorin.”

 

“That’s right. And you must be Nain.”

 

At Frodo’s raised eyebrow and abrupt shake of his head, Thorin amended quickly, “Farin then, surely?”

 

“My name is Frodo.”

 

The tone was slightly petulant but Thorin nodded and held out his hand solemnly. “It is a pleasure to meet you, Frodo.”  He was grateful to see that Frodo only hesitated for a second before gripping his hand and shaking it with equal seriousness. “I was just about find breakfast. Would you care to join me?”

 

Like all children, Frodo perked up instantly at the thought of food and gave an enthusiastic nod. As Thorin stood up, Frodo hesitantly moved beside him throwing curious glances up at him. It was nice to see that he hadn’t lost his touch. Fíli and Kíli had been unsurprisingly reserved and withdrawn after Víli had been lost in battle. Some days, when not even Kíli could get Fíli to smile, it had been Thorin who’d finally managed to get them both to collapse with laughter.

 

Taking off down the hallway, he kept a discreet eye on Frodo who seemed to be staring at Thorin’s boots intently. It wasn’t long before he realized that Frodo was trying to match his footsteps falling shy at each step. Obligingly, he shortened his stride and laughed to himself as Frodo puffed up with pride when he’d finally managed to make his legs match.

 

Apparently, their synced footsteps seemed to make Frodo braver because what had once been a pleasant, silent journey was interrupted as the dam broke. “Are you going to be my new ada?” he asked staring up at Thorin with a familiar twinkle in his eye.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thorin remembers just how inquisitive small children can be.

Previously in Crafting a New Heartbeat: 

Apparently, their synced footsteps seemed to make Frodo braver because what had once been a pleasant, silent journey was interrupted as the dam broke. “Are you going to be my new ada?” he asked staring up at Thorin with a familiar twinkle in his eye.

CHAPTER BREAK

“Well are you?” Frodo asked again his eyes still alight. “Because Elrohir said fathers are called ada, but Uncle Bilbo is already my uncle and I already have plenty of those so maybe I can call you ada if you’re going to be my new father.” It was a twinkle that graced Bilbo’s eyes often enough and usually boded ill for any involved, but Thorin was too distracted to recognize the danger signs.

 

Thorin winced as the Elvish word flowed off the innocent tongue, but he bit back the automatic retort and focused on what the child was asking. “Am I what?”

 

“My new ada? Fíli and Kíli said that you were upstairs kissing and I know that when Rose and Bargo were kissing behind the party tree last year they got married. Are you going to marry Uncle Bilbo?”

 

Thorin was going to throttle his nephews. “Frodo, I don’t know what Fíli and Kíli told you – ,“ he was interrupted when Frodo flapped a hand at him.

 

“It’s okay if you don’t want to tell me. Uncle Bilbo didn’t want to tell me last night either. But he’s happier now than he ever was at home and I guess this is our new home which is good cause I like it here. I think.” Thorin stared at Frodo who continued on without taking a breath. “Have you seen Dwalin? I have, and he’s big. I wanted to see more of his tattoos, but he left before I got a chance. Do you have one? Can I see it? Uncle Bilbo says I can’t have one but if all dwarrows have one then maybe I should get one too since I’m going to be a dwarf.”

 

“Huh?” Thorin replied eloquently. Frodo bounced on his toes, and Thorin resumed walking, finally aware that he had actually stopped in awe of the onslaught of words.

 

“So can I see it?”

 

“See what?” Thorin replied blankly as his mind raced to make sense of the last half a dozen sentences that Frodo had just rattled off without breath.

 

“Your tattoo. I know all dwarrows have one,” Frodo added, slipping his hand into Thorin’s. “This means that I can get one too. Uncle Bilbo’s gonna say I’m too little but if you have a baby then I won’t be the littlest one anymore. Are you going to have a baby? If you do can you make sure it’s not a girl? I don’t want a sister. I want brothers.”

 

Thorin’s mind had stuttered to a complete stop at the word baby, and as if sensing a weakness, Frodo used to the silence to go in for the kill. “Do you love Uncle Bilbo? He said he loves you and that you were both being stupid, but I don’t wanna go back in the cart again and if you don’t love Uncle Bilbo then you are going to throw us out, and we are going to have to go live with the elves because I don’t want to go back to Hobbiton ever again.”

 

That got Thorin’s attention away from panicked thoughts of curly haired babes. Kneeling down beside Frodo, he met Frodo’s gaze and made his face as serious as possible. “I love your Uncle Bilbo very much. And even if I didn’t, there is nothing you could do that would make me ever throw you out of the mountain.”

 

“Promise?”

 

“On my honor, you will never have to return to Hobbiton if that is your wish.” 

 

Frodo seemed to visibly relax at those words. “Honor? Okay. Uncle Bilbo said you were honorable – “ And with that Frodo began chattering again, holding his arms up expectantly. 

 

Without thinking about it, Thorin hoisted the youngster into his arms and began striding toward the royal dining room again. Frodo continued talking straight into his ear, occasionally waving his arms for emphasis, while Thorin began to realize that all had definitely not been well in the Shire if it had caused Frodo to hate it with such a passion. But that was a conversation he would have with Bilbo at a later date. 

 

“...and did you know that tomatoes really grow well if you let the spiders crawl all over them?” Frodo continued merrily, ignoring both Thorin’s introspective thoughts and subsequent shudder at the mention of those eight-legged menaces.

 

More than once, Thorin had to shift his hold to keep Frodo from squirming out of his arms until finally he admitted defeat and let Frodo wriggle up onto his shoulders. There Frodo stayed, hands buried in his hair, until they reached the dining hall.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There is finally a breakfast and Thorin realizes just how similar Frodo and Bilbo are actually are.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nope. Still don't own The Hobbit or any and all other related artifacts. More's the pity. Enjoy the next update. Kudos and comments are love!

It was with some relief that Thorin spied Dwalin and Balin already sitting at the table. The Company had made it a habit to dine together whenever possible though Thorin was really the only one consistently found at the table. Balin joined him most days, and Dwalin as his guard was most often there as well. Everyone else had duties that sometimes kept them away for days at a time, but they would always turn up eventually.

 

“Dwalin!” The happy cry from over his head rang out, and Thorin shot his friend a pleading look.

 

For half a moment, Dwalin appeared as if he was going to ignore the silent call for help, but he heaved himself out of his chair soon enough and came over to pluck Frodo off the shoulders of his liege.

 

Massaging the prickly feeling in his scalp from where Frodo had gripped a shade too hard, Thorin sat himself next to Balin at the head of the table and watched with silent amusement as Dwalin, a feared, battle hardened warrior, sat back down as well with Frodo bouncing on his knee.

 

This was how Bilbo found them half an hour later. He had a panicked look on his face as he burst into the dining hall skidding to a stop at the far end of the long, green table. “Oh thank Eru,” Thorin heard him mutter as his eyes landed on Frodo who was sitting cross-legged on the table in front of Dwalin and Balin listening to the elder tell a story about Durin. It was a story Thorin had heard and told many times before so he had reluctantly tuned it out to concentrate on the scrolls that Balin had thrust at him.

 

Thorin watched as Bilbo got an absent-minded wave before Frodo refocused entirely on Balin’s story. With a shy grin, Bilbo awkwardly settled down on Thorin’s right side and with a slight pause began helping himself to the food on the table. Piling his plate high with ham, potatoes, and sausages, he began to tuck in after greeting Thorin with a soft hello. Thorin returned his greeting with a smile as he resolutely ignored Dwalin’s throat clearing and smirk at the seating arrangement.

 

It seemed that Bilbo had managed not to vanish in the night. Thorin was still almost convinced that the previous evening had been a dream. As he fidgeted with the scroll in front of him, he couldn’t help but flick his eyes up almost as if to check to see that Bilbo was still eating beside him.

 

During one such reassuring look, he unwittingly caught Balin’s gaze, and the elderly dwarf also flashed him a knowing smirk glancing back and forth between the two seats. Thorin refused to blush but did grunt and reluctantly went back to reading the world’s driest scroll imaginable. It was hardly his fault that Bilbo had chosen to sit in the Consort’s traditional seat. Thorin was startled moments later by Bilbo’s knife accidentally scraping the edge of his plate and realized that Bilbo had the appearance of a person struggling to find a topic, presumably to break the undercurrent of tension flowing between them.

 

“Did you and Frodo get to meet properly?” Bilbo finally asked after swallowing down a piece of potato.

 

Glancing up from his scrolls again, Thorin shot his One a wry look. “I did indeed. Did you know Frodo doesn’t need to breathe?”

 

Bilbo laughed at that and pointed his fork at Thorin. “Just be glad you weren’t in a wagon with him for months.” At Thorin’s look of horror, Bilbo grinned and continued quietly. “He’s a great one for asking questions but he’ll stop if you ask him. He knows when enough is enough.”

 

“Unlike some people,” Dwalin grunted.

 

Handing a piece of ham to Frodo who tore it into quite happily, Balin smiled benignly across the table at Bilbo after sending a gimlet look toward his brother. “Hard headedness is not just a trait of Fundin, m’lad. How do you think these halls got built but the stubbornness of their kings?”

 

Thorin had long ago accepted it as fact that Dwalin and Balin considered themselves privy to his every conversation. Dwalin’s excuse was that Thorin was a blockhead and that as his chief guard, Dwalin needed to be prepared in case the King’s conversational partners turned out to be vicious assassins. As that had happened on more than one occasion, Thorin couldn’t really fault his logic. Balin, on the other hand, had no such excuse. He just liked to meddle.

 

“He certainly is curious,” Thorin agreed readily. Both made a concentrated effort to ignore their audience as the conversation of dwarrows and fauntling had dropped to a bare minimum to better witness Bilbo and Thorin’s awkwardness.

 

“As am I.” Here Bilbo who craned his neck to look at the scroll laying forgotten across Thorin’s empty plate. “A bit of light reading?”

 

“A labor dispute among the miners.” Thorin’s voice was flat, and he glared at the scroll as if it offended him. In truth, he hadn’t read a word since Bilbo entered. After all that he and his heirs had been through, listening to dwarrows quarrel about who had the right to mine where was wearisome to say the least. But it was his job and he told Bilbo so. Bilbo tutted sympathetically.

 

“The properties I owned in Hobbiton were bad enough to manage; I can’t imagine a whole mountain’s worth.”

 

“Aye,” Balin chimed in as Dwalin scooped Frodo off the table having finally finished the story . “Being a King is no easy task. Especially when one is late.”

 

At the pointed words, Thorin swore and rose from his seat gathering up the scrolls that he’d scattered.

 

“Did you even eat?” He heard Bilbo ask softly and glanced down to realize that his plate was still clean.

 

Thorin said dismissively, “I’ll eat later.” In his haste to depart, Thorin completely missed the look that Bilbo shot him and the raised eyebrow that graced Balin’s face.

 

As Thorin passed Dwalin, he felt something hit the back of his head and watched as a roll bounced across the floor. When he turned and glared at Dwalin, whose face looked innocent enough but was no match for Frodo’s, the big burly guard pointed up at the fauntling sitting on his shoulders. Frodo lobbed another roll at Thorin which he caught one-handed as the scrolls wavered dangerously in the other.

 

“For later,” Frodo said seriously, resting his chin on Dwalin’s head. The look he gave Thorin was eerily similar to ones he had received from Bilbo and if Thorin hadn’t known better he would have swore then and there that Frodo was more than Bilbo’s sister-son. Raising the roll in salute, he wandered out the door content in the knowledge that the miners weren’t going anywhere and that they had to wait for him. It was definitely one of the perks of his new job.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thorin gets irritated by his courtiers and there is tooth-rotting fluff with Frodo.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AAAaaannnd....we're done. Just kidding. This is the last bit of this story, but I still have plenty more in my mind for the further adventures of Thorin, Bilbo and Frodo. I will make no guarantees as to when those will be posted because the last time I did that I ended up lying like a dog and not making anywhere near that deadline. All I can say is that I hope it is soon-ish that I can add the next installment of Heartbeat Under the Mountain.
> 
> Kudos and comments are love!

“Mahal curse them a thousand times,” Thorin muttered under his breath as he escaped from the conference room. Where was Dís when he needed her? She was far better at soothing tempers than he was, but she had yet to return from Lake-Town.

 

As he settled himself back in a corner just out of sight from the conference room in a little used corridor (alright, he was hiding in the corner), he was relieved that the angry shouting was now muffled by thick stone walls. That meant he was in the perfect spot to hear a familiar giggle. Stepping out from behind a stone marker, he watched as Dwalin marched past him, his heavy boots thudding imperiously, his back ramrod straight, with little Frodo sitting perched on one tattooed shoulder chattering more than any raven ever could.

 

While his bodyguard was as stone-faced as ever that didn’t seem to deter the small hobbit and Thorin watched as more than one guard did a double take before shaping up swiftly at Dwalin’s familiar snarl. That, at least, explained why Dwalin hadn’t slipped into the conference room with him. He felt another surge of jealousy at the amount of time Dwalin got to spend with Frodo. For the first time in an extraordinarily long time, Thorin found himself wondering if there was someone else out there to whom he could delegate some of his tasks. It was a very surprising thought.

 

A firm tap on his shoulder brought his eyes back round to a featureless page who had appeared silently at his elbow. “They are ready for you now, my King,” the page remarked with a bland look, and Thorin racked his brain for a name. If anything, he needed it to pass the name on to Nori. As much as he didn’t want to lose a good page, one as unassuming as this could be put to far better use.

 

“Thank you, Muron,” he finally replied as the name popped into his head. He was right; this was definitely one he needed to pass along. With as many names as he’d had to memorize as a child, he’d developed a knack for it. The fact that he’d had such a hard time remembering this particular dwarf said a lot.

 

While he could not afford to send a wistful look over his shoulder at Frodo and Dwalin, he heaved a mental sigh. One of these days…

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Thorin was fairly certain that the gods hated him. He’d seen Frodo no less than three more times that day and yet had never gotten a chance to speak to him. In fact, Thorin wasn’t entirely sure that Frodo even knew he’d been that near the king. Dwalin, Bilbo, and Balin certainly hadn’t pointed him out.

 

Paying attention to the gaggle of courtiers and nobles that seemed to follow him wherever he went was next to impossible as he was instead listening for either Bilbo’s calming voice or Frodo’s eager laugh. Again, he found himself wishing that he could turn over some of these duties he’d found himself with and spend more time with his family.

 

His family.

 

The stubborn side of his mind growled every time he entertained such thoughts as he hadn’t ever actually proposed to Bilbo or even really begun courting him. He had no claim to Bilbo and Frodo other than the promise of courtship and Bilbo’s assurances of his love. But it was a nice, warm fuzzy thought and his heart fully approved of that. He loved Fíli and Kíli and their mother dearly, but the love of a soulmate, a dwarf’s own true One crafted for him by Mahal, was very different from the love of kin. Dís’ heart would always belong to Víli, and the boys had yet to find their own Ones. In the manner of Mahal, it was time to craft his own family. Now that he’d found Bilbo again there was nothing that could stop him. Except maybe these damnable advisors.

 

Thorin let his head clunk back against the solid stone throne behind him. The jewel that had once been the light of their kingdom was gone, and so Thorin had crafted a new rune stone in its place carrying the symbol for rebirth. They were rebuilding out of the ashes of their destroyed home, and Thorin wanted that reminder to be visible to anyone who visited his court. The House of Durin may end, but the mountain would always belong to the dwarrows -, _always_.

 

As he sat underneath that rune, he reveled in the silence. His day had been long and filled with arguing about Mahal only knew, and now he just wanted quiet. The guards had left with muttered grumbles about the wrath of Dwalin, but Thorin could care less. Now he was the only one left in the throne room and that suited him just fine.

 

“It’s really big in here.”

 

Thorin jumped as the soft voice echoed through the cavernous hall. Sound really did magnify in this hall for very good reason. The design allowed for whoever was sitting on the throne to hear what was being murmured among his nobles; a feature which had prevented more than one coup.

 

“Yes, it is, Frodo.” He finally replied leaning forward to watch as Frodo slowly emerged from behind the throne. “How long have you been in here, little one?”

 

With a shrug, Frodo climbed up and settled on Thorin’s lap. “I dunno. A long time. Dwalin had to go do some things, and then Uncle Bilbo and Balin started talking, and I got bored.”

 

Once again, this was said in a rush, and Thorin had a flash of insight. “It is a very big mountain, isn’t it, Frodo?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“There have been a lot of changes for you these last few months,” Thorin said quietly, and Frodo leaned into him, resting his head on the fur cloak that Thorin had wrapped himself in as the cooler night air had began to seep in through his clothes. He felt the small head nod against his chest. “We are glad to have you here.”

 

“Does ‘we’ mean you or does ‘we’ mean everyone?” Frodo asked shrewdly. “Cause Thranduil used ‘we’ a lot but he mostly meant ‘me’.”

 

Thorin chuckled at Frodo’s observation. “Thranduil is a-” here he paused as he almost called Thranduil one of a hundred vulgar words but he instead took a calming breath and started again. “Thranduil is a king and probably feels entitled to speak as he does.” The curly head tucked under his chin, a child who radiated innocence as easily as breathing, suddenly seemed far more important than a century long feud held against an Elven lord. “Everyone is indeed glad that you are here. I know Dwalin counts you as a friend and that does not happen easily.”

 

“Are you glad I’m here?”

 

“Very,” Thorin replied, “I told you as much this morning, did I not?’

 

“Grown-ups lie.”

 

Frodo’s voice had gotten very soft, and Thorin’s eyes narrowed. Once again, he had to bite his tongue. What had happened in the Shire was none of his business. “I will never lie to you, Frodo. You have my word,” was what he said instead, tucking the edge of his cloak around Frodo who had begun to shiver. He really needed to speak to Bombur about getting some appropriate clothing for Bilbo and Frodo.

 

“Honor.” Frodo offered, and it almost sounded like he smiled as he said it.

 

“Honor,” Thorin agreed wholeheartedly. “Would you like to hear a story, little one? You have heard many stories of the Company, but there are many more that not even Dwalin knows about.”

 

He felt Frodo perk up and then snuggle down into the cloak. “I like stories.”

 

So as the last lights of the sun filtered away and the torches were lit, Thorin and Frodo sat curled up on the throne their voices echoing through the empty chamber.

 

Around them, the veins in the green rock seemed to pulse in time with their words. Thraín had always said the mountain had seemed alive when he ruled, and for once, Thorin understood what he meant. As mad as it sounded, the rock surrounding them was pleased. Who was he to disagree?

 

 


End file.
